it seems i’m a claustrophobic traveler,
anxiety builds as the semis surround,
so i choose the slow, right lane for the extra air.
space before speed, i say,
and sense sanity & safety nodding with fervor.
in the slow lane stillness i exhale.
a week plus with wings a’flapping leaves me breathing hard and craving space.
craving home and nest and pizza dough on the counter.
it grows to fill the space it’s given,
as home rises in me a full and hearty heart.
i too rise and fall.
shrinking solitary in still space and growing gregarious when given the chance.
i too am a bit doughy from the week’s good eating.
i hope this batch will forgive me,
when i smother it in onions
and bake at 500 degrees.
some spaces, though necessary, are hotter than others.
headed out of the crow’s nest for a week plus on the road –
snapshots recorded here.
home now and so happy.